


the tale of the mythical "last pilot"

by thehibiscusthief



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crack, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehibiscusthief/pseuds/thehibiscusthief
Summary: in which a straight white male protagonist will go to any lengths to obtain the mythical"last pilot"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thelastpilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelastpilot/gifts).



> i just wanted to save this somewhere besides tumblr  
> (and yes, i am the author, im not stealing some anonymous person's work)

it is the year 24547107450915476  
all writing utensils have vanished  
the population is reduced to scratching numbers and letters into papers with their nails, ragged and torn with the stress. drops of dried crimson can be found on many documents, signs of a nail finally giving up the ghost.  
it is said that somewhere  
in some deep, mystical temple  
there is one last pen  
known as the mythical  
"last pilot"  
after many months of desperate searching  
after many treks across the stereotypical plains of africa  
and jungles of the amazon  
and mountains of wherever the fuck this cliche puts them  
our straight white male protagonist who is somehow "special" and "unique" has found it  
carefully  
slowly  
with your adverb of choice  
he makes his way to the cracked stone door  
pale grey with streaks of black running down the granite  
and he sees an indentation that somehow perfectly fits his hand  
he reaches up  
places his palm into the rock  
it glows blue, starting dim at first, but quickly reaching an intensity like a phone screen at 2am in a dark bedroom  
the black streaks are glowing blue as well, reflected in miniscule crystals embedded in the rock chunks littering the ground  
the rock begins to tremble  
the protagonist who swears hes fearless steps back, clutching his hand to his chest, about to piss his pants in terror  
the cracks in the stone widen with the trembling  
bits and pieces of the rock break away, steady streams of granite gravel rushing down to meet the earth  
when the dust has cleared away  
the protagonist is still standing  
the door is gone, a massive slab of stone now crumbled across the ground  
a soft blue glow shines out of the hole  
carefully  
slowly  
with the same adverb of choice as before in an attempt to be smart and use fancy literary devices like repetition  
the protagonist steps through the doorway  
he is in a tunnel  
the same granite, grey with streaks of overly poetic midnight surrounds him  
the streaks are glowing, the source of the light  
he walks through the tunnel, confident now that he is in no danger of being crushed by magical granite even though he's literally entombed in it  
after a long time  
a few minutes? an hour? a day? time doesnt exist when you're a straight white male protagonist in a cool cave who knows who cares  
he comes into a large chamber  
the walls are covered in cans  
he thinks he's seen the designs in a history textbook  
was it...coke? no, pepsi. pepsi hated coke. there was a war over it in 213028, if he correctly remembers a fact his third grade history teacher had offhandedly mentioned because when you're a straight white male protagonist you remember weird shit that is somehow relevant later.  
there are turtles everywhere  
why are there turtles this makes no sense to him  
they arent even real turtles they are drawings and plushies and the occasional figurine and is that a dude dressed up as a turtle?  
he isnt a straight white male so he must be the villain of whatever he was from  
sound reasoning, the straight white male protagonist who definitely isnt racist thinks to himself.  
now that he isnt stomping through a tunnel, he can hear a quiet scratching fill the air. looking around, he realizes its coming from a desk in the corner. it looks like a corpse is hunched over it. maybe the scratching is magical mice (not rats rats are nasty and only belong in celebrated gay postapocalyptic manga) who would lead him through the caves to the mythical  
"last pilot"  
that he is searching for.  
he quietly sneaks through the chamber, sticking close to the blue cans lining the walls and stepping over the occasional not-white-probably-villain-turtle-guy figurine.  
finally  
he reaches the desk  
and sees that what he thought was a corpse is a living person, muttering to himself.  
"hey"  
the straight white male protagonist calls  
"do you know where the mythical  
'last pilot'  
is"  
he looks up  
it is not a he  
it is a she  
with a beanie  
and she is not a straight white male protagonist so she must be the evil beast that protects the mythical  
"last pilot"  
he drops into a fighting stance that is totally legit and looks badass  
she sighs  
leans back in her chair  
"dude"  
she says  
with a tone that shakes the walls of the cavern  
a pepsi can falls down  
he thinks he might actually piss his pants this time  
"i AM the last pilot"  
his mouth drops  
but the mythical  
"last pilot"  
was supposed to be a pen?  
she continues  
"and i HAVE the last pilots"  
pilots?  
pilotS?  
"all of them"  
"an infinite supply"  
"and if you dont mind"  
"i need to finish this novel"  
"so kindly fuck off"  
"go back to goose quills"  
"(im telling you guys people could write before they had proper modern utensils how is your dystopian society looking over such a basic fact and what about computers how is this a logical situation at all)"  
"and buy this when its finished"  
and with that  
she turns back to her desk  
and now he sees that she has an open notebook  
and a cup full of pens  
and one is clutched in her hand, now continuing from the line of dark ink where she left off  
(ink)  
(hed never thought he would one day see real ink)  
but  
she had refused to give him the mythical  
"last pilot"  
so resolute  
like the straight white male protagonist he was  
he squared his shoulders  
marched up  
and yanked the pen out of her hand  
she turned around  
a scowl on her face  
and fucking decked him  
he woke up  
much much later  
again time doesnt matter when youre a straight white male protagonist  
in the middle of fucking nowhere  
with a note stuck to his chest  
he peeled it off and held it up to his gaze  
it read  
in many colors of ink  
"USE A DAMN QUILL YOU FUCK"  
and underneath the harsh phrase was a phone number  
and underneath the phone number was smaller text  
"support group for other straight white male protagonists who wanted a pen"  
and that is the story  
of the mythical  
"last pilot"


End file.
